


Tell Me It's Real

by Frenchsoda, TophsLegacy



Category: RWBY
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, also, just a hint of spice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchsoda/pseuds/Frenchsoda, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TophsLegacy/pseuds/TophsLegacy
Summary: A late night rendezvous in a greenhouse at the edge of campus ends in a way neither of them expects.And when she finally appears in the greenhouse’s doorway, streaming with water, wearing a smile so bright it could light up the whole night sky, Blake has to control herself not to run to her, not to embrace her, not to kiss her with all she has.***Yang doesn’t even hear the words, can’t place them as her own yet, entirely consumed by the way the amber glow of candlelight paints shadows across dark skin. Blake is radiant in the darkness, confident with the cover it brings.This was a really fun collab with Frenchsoda as a birthday gift for thecarlonethatalsowrites. The fic is based on the song Tell Me It's Real by Seafret - go check it out if you want some feels. Frenchsoda wrote from Blake's perspective in the first half, then I wrote Yang's perspective in the second half. Hope you all enjoy. :D
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 9
Kudos: 131





	Tell Me It's Real

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thecarlonethatalsowrites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecarlonethatalsowrites/gifts).



Blake hears her before she sees her; fast footsteps dancing in the rain, short breath warming up the fresh air, heavy heartbeats filling her own mind. Even within the deafening deluge, she recognizes her. It’s her footsteps, her breath, her heartbeats. And when she finally appears in the greenhouse’s doorway, streaming with water, wearing a smile so bright it could light up the whole night sky, Blake has to control herself not to run to her, not to embrace her, not to kiss her with all she has. She keeps her composure instead and cocks an eyebrow, a small smirk on her own lips, as her gaze falls down, down, from Yang’s blonde mane, dripping with rain, to Yang’s lips, full and ready, to Yang’s cleavage, bare and wet. 

Her partner doesn’t care about decorum and restraints. Three large steps and she’s invading Blake’s personal space, so close her breath leaves a hot trail on the Faunus’s skin. God, she smells so good. She smells like sunset. Like morning dew, forest trapped in the mist, stone warming up under a gentle beam of light.

“Hey,” Yang murmurs.

“Hey,” Blake murmurs back.

Their voices fade into the loud pounding of the rain hitting the glass roof, and yet it lingers in Blake’s mind. She missed Yang’s voice. So fucking much. She saw her this afternoon during practice and all morning during class, but it’s not the same. Not with people around. Here, now, when they’re alone, Yang lowers her voice, fills it with a husky, greedy tint that always, without fault, warms Blake up to the point she feels like a fire has taken over her lungs, her stomach, her whole body.

Yang’s eyes wander to her lips and settle there for a second too long, before traveling back up. They’re dark. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” she compliments, even though she hasn’t looked at anything but her partner since she entered the building. 

Blake slightly raises her chin and takes a step back. She aches at the sudden distance, but she doesn’t let it show. Yang can’t know. How much Blake craves her, how her absence leaves her desperate and empty. Because this is just a game. A wicked, thrilling game Blake can only lose, one day, when she caves in, when she admits it’s not just a game anymore—it never was.

“I didn’t want people to know we’re here.” She inclines her head towards the small lantern she lit when she arrived. It spreads a dim, flickering glow through the greenhouse, illuminating the wide variety of plants that grow there, casting rippling shadows on the ground and the glass walls. “I figured we wouldn’t need much light anyway.”

She tries not to blush under Yang’s flaming glare. Oh, how she loves and hates her when she’s like that. So powerful. So avid. So commanding.

Yang takes a step forward and Blake moves backward once more. Her back bumps into the wall. It’s cold. The rain sings on the smooth surface, beats the glass, flows to the ground, outside. A flash of lightning rips the sky apart. It paints Yang in flames. God, she’s magnificent.

“You were breathtaking today,” Yang whispers, a bit strangled, and it catches in Blake’s Faunus ears and sends shivers down her spine. “I tried not to stare. I really did. But fuck, Blake…” She lifts her hand and brushes heated fingertips on Blake’s cheek. “You were all I could see.”

A distant thunderclap punctuates her words, and Blake’s heart soars in her chest. She doesn’t know if it’s the heavy storm, isolating them in their own world, cutting everything away, as if nothing else mattered, but Yang is bold. Saying words she shouldn’t. Making her hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s something more than just reckless fun. That Yang wants her not because of the thrill of getting caught, but because it’s her. Fuck. She can’t think that way. She can’t.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Blake growls.

Yang smirks. “Anything you want.”

And she kisses her.

***

 _You were all I could see._ The words flow out of her mouth as fast as the rain beats the glass Blake is pressed against, unplanned but no less honest. She doesn’t even hear them, can’t place them as her own yet, entirely consumed by the way the amber glow of candlelight paints shadows across dark skin. Blake is radiant in the darkness, confident with the cover it brings. 

In the distance, thunder rolls across the sky, but she barely hears that either, it’s all Blake. 

_Anything you want._ Blake’s lips are warm against her own, a stark contrast to the chill of rain seeping into her skin — a chill that is in no way responsible for the shiver that shoots through every nerve. Blake twists her hands into the fabric of Yang’s jacket, pulling her close until there’s no space left between them, no place left to hide. In the split second they break apart for air Yang finally breathes in the words that had slipped from her tongue so easily, the weight of them stopping her in her tracks.

She’d never thought about it before this moment, but every bit of it is true. All she sees is Blake. She really would give her anything she wants. All Blake has to do is ask. 

She presses a hand against the fogged glass to steady herself, fingers slipping against the condensation they’d made. The few inches it puts between them is entirely too much, but she needs it, needs a single breath that isn’t full of Blake, ”Hold on.” 

Yang’s mind races, the pelt of raindrops against the roof counting off each thought in perfect time. Blake may never ask. She’d set the rules for this arrangement. Total secrecy and nothing less. Which hadn’t been an issue when it all started. The thrill of being the only ones to know, the risk of being caught, made it that much hotter. Now it’s so much more than that, but does Blake still see it as a game? 

She wants to find reassurance in Blake’s eyes, but all she sees is a patient flame waiting to burn brighter. A fire she’d just minutes before been ready to be consumed by now gives her pause. Her fingers clench against the glass, reaching for the strength not to ask, the will to not need an answer so badly. She’d spent years making herself strong only to leave a chink in her armor big enough for Blake to find her way through, to make a home inside her heart, to live in her veins. 

The storm comes to life at that moment, thunder booms directly above them, rattling the glass like a hammer against an anvil. The sound jolts Blake forward and off of the glass directly into Yang, who wraps her arms around her without thinking. Blake’s breath is warm against her skin, stopping Yang’s rush of thoughts in an instant. With Blake pressed against her, filling every void left between them, courage comes easier than it should. 

“Blake.” she breathes, “Tell me it’s real.” 

Trembling fingers dance across Yang’s sternum, “What are you talking about?”

She can hear it in her voice, Blake knows, but Yang finds the words again for her anyway.

“This.” She squeezes Blake a little tighter, fighting the quiver in her own voice, “Tell me _this_ is real.” 

As the seconds pass Yang’s heart climbs further into her throat, brought back down as she feels Blake slowly trace her fingers up her neck, purposefully pressing each palm to each cheek. She lets out a shaky breath as Blake tilts their foreheads together. 

“Does it feel real to you?” Blake’s eyes are cast down, her voice a whisper, even, measured. It gives nothing away in the small space she’d put between them. 

Yang can’t say it first. This is the real risk, not the sneaking around and keeping secrets, but tipping her hand first without knowing how big the gamble is, it’s a risk she can’t take. People have never made a habit of staying for her, why give Blake a reason to follow suit. Yang pulls her even closer, letting out a weak chuckle, her last defense against her own heart, “I asked you first.” 

Blake leans back, tilts Yang’s chin up to meet her eyes. Where once Yang found a patient flame she now sees molten gold, shimmering with a passion she’d never seen before. Blake’s words are laced with honey and the small smile she lets surface is so genuine Yang loses her breath, “It’s real.” 

Lightning forks across the sky, splitting clouds and bathing them in a momentary flash of light, in it Yang sees salvation. 

Blake moves first, capturing Yang’s relieved sigh against her lips. They’ve kissed countless times, but this one is so much sweeter than the rest, calm and slow, opposite of the storm that rages on above them. 

Rain beats against the roof with abandon, but like everything else, it’s dull in Yang’s ears. A muffled symphony of senses plays in the background. Blake’s touch is only rivaled by the joy bubbling to the surface, stretching Yang’s smile so unbearably far that it’s impossible to keep kissing. 

Blake’s lips curl in a way that makes Yang think she doesn’t mind at all. 

They laugh against the storm, entirely at peace in each other’s arms.


End file.
